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| The Dream Songs | 
| Author: John Berryman
Creator: W. S. Merwin
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Category: Book
List Price: $18.00
Buy New: $10.31
You Save: $7.69 (43%)
New (33) from $10.31
Avg. Customer Rating:  17 reviews
Sales Rank: 31751
Media: Paperback
Number Of Items: 1
Pages: 464
Shipping Weight (lbs): 0.9
Dimensions (in): 8.2 x 5.4 x 0.9
ISBN: 0374530661
Dewey Decimal Number: 811
EAN: 9780374530662
ASIN: 0374530661
Publication Date: April 17, 2007
Availability: Usually ships in 1-2 business days
Condition: Brand new item. Over 4 million customers served. Order now. Selling online since 1995. Few left in stock - order soon. Code: V20081117044309S
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Product Description
This edition combines The Dream Songs, awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1965, and His Toy, His Dream, His Rest, which won the National Book Award for Poetry in 1969 and contains all 385 songs. Of The Dream Songs, A. Alvarez wrote in The Observer, “A major achievement. He has written an elegy on his brilliant generation and, in the process, he has also written an elegy on himself.”
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| Customer Reviews: Read 12 more reviews...
The Rest of the Story August 17, 2008
The /mandatory/ companion to Berryman's /Collected Poems/, as Berryman isn't Berryman without the /Dream Songs/.
Always confessional, sometimes maudlin, never mawkish, always jerking language around to try to make it mean what he sees, the /Dream Songs/ are a brouhaha among his various selves, all passionate in their aspirations and their disagreements, an ongoing (1955-71) ruckus that made Berryman as he made them.
Warning: If you simply can't stand a ringside seat at a fight, don't; this ain't television.
Waving to the masses.... February 24, 2008
HAHA guys
What is this........... eh, not quite sure, but, slipped so easily into the unknown without PREJUDICE, completely into the author's syntax, thoughts and, yes, dreams.
This author waved to the onlookers as he descended to the hard, craggy Mississippi Rocks that he LOVED. Not a particular story many people in the press want to hold above THE LAUREATES and Fakes that permeate our Poetry industry. A truly strange trip through the head of an albatross in flight....
I love ROCKS.
dream songs aren't meant to be understood, understand? December 16, 2007
2 out of 2 found this review helpful
the main point of criticism of this poem is its hyper-personal self-referential content. i have to say, however, that i have never felt so comforted, so saddened nor so delighted by any work of art or literature or film as i have by these songs no matter how little i know about what he really means or is talking about. i don't even want to know the specifics or the origins behind every line.
this is the most jarring and successful work of experimental anything i've ever encountered in my life. berryman had such a command of language; vernacular, colloqialisms, meter, form, internal rhyme, schizo pronoun shifts, multiplicity, this masterpiece has it all. 'the dream songs' take language and poetry to its limits and does so succinctly, with meter and rigid sonnet form berryman devised for the work.
the fact that the beats overshadow people like berryman and john barth and william carlos williams is simply a crime. i honestly feel that this work surpasses 'leaves of grass' and is probably the most amazing achievement in american poetry.
this is not to say that i think berryman is america's finest poet (more than likely our most erudite, but not our finest). on the contrary, i think he was a marginal writer who caught fire like no one ever has. this is what art is; one person's fractured assemblege of all the shattered pieces of everything in an epic confession where he is in fact three people and is killed and raises from the dead and cheats and lies and is mistreated and is wrong, all in heroic fashion. to want to know where it all came from is wrong and selfish and diminishes the work. to be consoled or bored or outraged is what must be done.
i re-read this beast about once a year, last time through 191 was probably my favorite. like all masterpieces, you appreciate something different every time.
buy this book, steal it, whatever you have to do.
 Loose Ballads September 28, 2005
4 out of 8 found this review helpful
At first, I didn't find much to rejoice about in this collection of poems. The expectation Berryman sets up with his title is deceptive. I found little evidence of "dream." What I mean is that I found this writing highly literal, straight-forward and self-conscious, i.e. the antithesis of dreamy. Secondly, "songs" troubled me. One of the thing that distinguishes poetry from prose is poetry's musicality. And having "songs" in the title of a collection hints that there may be lyricism within. However, I found the diction flabby, the tone impotent and therefore lacking any semblance of lyricism. Perhaps what Berryman meant by "songs" is this: Perhaps these poems are loose ballads (without the envoi and without the predicable rhyming scheme). Ballades address an important person (Henry, in this case) and sums up the point of the poems.
It's terrible to sum-up a collection of poems (or is The Dream Songs considered one poem in parts?), but here goes: Basically, in each section we have the protagonist, Henry, in various situations, or in mere contemplation. The forward for this book is interesting in that, along the lines of Pound and Eliot, Berryman has made a concerted effort to inform his readership that this is, indeed, a persona poem, and therefore, not to be confused with a biographical poem. Perhaps what Berryman has produced here is an eclogue. An eclogue is a poem "written in the form of a monologue or dialogue in which the speaker tells us what he feels about a particular theme (and why) and why others ought to feel that same way (from Handbook of Poetic Forms)." When I approach these poems as bucolics (or, eclogues), Berryman's craft and the poems' meanings open up for me. Otherwise, these seem banally idea-driven and terribly discursive in that they're sometimes laden with private references. For example, the opening few lines: "Huffy Henry hid the day,/ unappeasable Henry sulked./ I see his point,-- a trying to put things over."
The best way to enter these poems, then, is to embrace Berryman's eclogues as a means to engaging with the main character, Henry. Because these poems are character-driven, the language is conversational, idiosyncratic, and at times, pedestrian (like how most of us are just plain boring in our impromptu conversations). In this sense, these poems have an immediacy to them; the reader can almost hear Henry's diatribes straight from his mouth. However, Henry is not without pithy insight. In part #28 Henry displays his humor and resign: "If I had to do the whole thing over again/ I wouldn't." At times these sections begin with such intrigue, they reel-in the reader. Part #44 begins: "Tell it to the forest fire, tell it to the moon." And at times, the readers are reminded of the fact that Henry's merely a character in Berryman's head. These last two lines of part #74, "Henry mastered, Henry/ tasting all the secret bits of life." And that's just what we get from these Dream Songs, bits of a Berryman character in all his intricacies, both commonplace and celebratory.
To like without much understanding November 9, 2004
6 out of 9 found this review helpful
I am not very knowledgable about Berryman and his work. I certainly have not read the poems with the time and intensity of a number of the reviewers on this site. I have an impression of Berryman and his work. It is of something vaguely likeable occaisionally able to provide a line which hits home. It is of a very variable voice in which the disorder and the breakdown somehow make the text too mixed- up.
Perhaps this is unfair. Bellow thought Berryman the best, and among other poets he too was understood as one of the best of his time.
Perhaps then I should let his lines , lines of one sonnet at least speak for themselves:
These lovely motions of the air, the breeze,
tell me I'm not in hell, thojugh round me the dead
lie in their limp postures
dramatizing the dreadful word 'instead'
for lively Henry, fit for debaucheries
and bird- of- paradise vestures
only his heart is elsewhere , down with them
& down with Delmore specially, the new ghost
haunting Henry most:
though fierce the claims of others, coimedela crime
came the Hebrew spectre , on a note of woe
and Join me O.
'Down with them all!'Henry suddenly cried
Their deaths were theirs. I wait on for my own,
I dare say it won't be long,
I have tried to be them, god knows I have tried,
but they are past it all, I have not done,
which brings me to the end of this song.
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